


Slow Breaths

by tmariea (OccasionalArtist)



Series: Breaths [1]
Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Chore day, Cuddles, Fluff, M/M, Me continuing to prove to myself that I'm a massive sap, No Plot/Plotless, Sleepy Cuddles, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, like 3 sentences I promise, there is also like the tiniest dash of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-18 03:48:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9366692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OccasionalArtist/pseuds/tmariea
Summary: Sorey is a big ball of energy, especially so when new books are on the line.  This doesn't mix so well when Mikleo would prefer a lazy day.  But, he knows how to help Sorey wind down, and take the kind of deep, slow breaths that feel like he's breathing for the first time in days.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Ya'll... this is a really indulgent, concerted effort to kill you all with fluff. Like, I had to write the ending scene in two sittings because it was relaxing enough to write that I was putting myself to sleep. Please make your dentist appointments now, and don't blame me for the bills.
> 
> I also had two ideas for how this ending could go, so if you are interested in a sexy version... check out the second fic in this series (NOW UP!!)

Mikleo loved Sorey a lot, there was no question about it.  Although, some days, Sorey seemed far too interested in testing his resolve.  When the pounding on his door started, accompanied by calls of “Mikleo, Mikleo, wake up!” the bit of light he could see under his curtain indicated it was just barely dawn.  No matter if he didn’t need to sleep, he enjoyed it.  Almost as much as he did not enjoy being woken up from it at these kinds of hours.  He groaned and rolled onto his stomach so he could bury his face in the pillow and drag the blanket tight across his back.  He knew that luck would not be with him – Sorey was relentless if he wanted him up – but the few more minutes might be worth it.

There came a point, as Mikleo knew it would, when Sorey gave up on knocking and decided to just come in.  He heard the door swing open, and then felt a body hit his bed, bouncing him slightly up off the mattress.

“Good morning,” Sorey said, laying down on the bed so part of his weight rested on Mikleo’s back.  Then he started nuzzling his nose into the nape of his neck.

Mikleo hummed softly, in reply.  Maybe this wasn’t too bad after all.

Then the weight and warmth was gone.  “Come on, it’s time to get up.  You’re wasting daylight staying in bed!”

He sighed.  “I was about to forgive you.”

“I’ll make it up later.  But aren’t you excited?”

It took a moment for Mikleo to remember.  While he thought, turned to face Sorey so he could look at his expression and search it for clues.  He looked bright and excited, which wasn’t much of a clue; that was a normal look.  It did click eventually though.  “Oh, right, didn’t Gramps say he would have two new books for us today if we did our chores well?”

“Yes!”

“Hmm, okay.  Why don’t you get a head start and I’ll join you in a little bit.”  His intentions were fully to go back to sleep for at least a few hours.

It seemed that Sorey could see through him, because he frowned, even as he did start to climb off of the bed.  “But what about breakfast?”

“Oh, okay, you’re not here for me.  You’re here for food.”

“Well, I can’t do good work on an empty stomach,” Sorey said, while striking a pose with his hands on his hips.  Then he conceded, “I’m always here for you, though,” and leaned down to kiss Mikleo’s forehead, right in the center where the jewel of his circlet would normally rest.

The two of them had always been affectionate, but these kinds of touches were still relatively new to their relationship, and Lords but it still made Mikleo melt just a bit.  He supposed that now he would have to make a big breakfast in return. “I’ll get started on something once I get dressed.  Now go on, shoo.”

For all of his complaints about not being able to work on an empty stomach, Sorey was already carting bedding out of his house by the time Mikleo brought him a plate of prickly boar bacon and potatoes with goat’s cheese.  He dumped his pile of sheets in a tub awaiting water before settling onto the steps of his house to eat.  “Thanks, Mikleo, this all looks great!  Are you going to eat too?”

Mikleo shook his head, and didn’t miss the way Sorey’s face fell just a bit.  “There’s not much left from the winter stores.  I’m fine with waiting until we harvest the first of the cold weather vegetables, and the goats start producing more milk for the new kids.”  As much as they enjoyed eating together, human needs were far more pressing when supplies weren’t abundant.  At any rate, it was one of the first warm days, although official start of spring had long come and passed, and he was more than happy to sit on the steps next to Sorey and bask in the sunlight.  Although…

“Hey!  I thought you said you were fine,” Sorey exclaimed as Mikleo swiped a strip of bacon.

“Well, I did say that, didn’t I.”

Sorey elbowed him in the ribs, just lightly enough to tickle and make him regret wearing his lighter tunic without the belts, before tucking in.  Mikleo made sure to keep a close eye on him; when he ate while excited, he tended to eat fast enough to make himself sick.  He did still finish in record time, and then dashed off to finish collecting clothes and bedding for the wash.

As a water seraph, the washing itself was Mikleo’s purview.  He found this amenable, as it meant he could spend a good portion of his morning swirling water and soap about in a tub, and separating out the dirt with artes while Sorey dashed about the hillside of Elysia.  That chore list included much less pleasant activities, like chopping firewood, and constructing an assembly for smoking the meat he would later have to hunt.  Sorey never seemed to mind though.  Not to mention, his method of doing, well, a lot of things, brought to mind words like ‘flitting,’ and ‘darting.’  Today, he had to add ‘frenetic’ to the list.

It was quite a reversal of roles.  For all that Mikleo was often the responsible one, while Sorey prone to distraction, he felt like doing nothing.  Perhaps it was the hour that he was woken up, or maybe that little taste of cuddling left him wanting more, or maybe watching Sorey hop about with such energy was just exhausting for everyone else.  He found himself swirling the wash water rather lazily while fantasizing about lying in the soft, new grass, and listening to the buzz of insects which were just starting to make themselves known again.

Part of him wondered if it was a seraph thing; he had heard some of the others, especially Old Man Taccio, talk about how it never got old to watch the seasons change and nature live out its cycles.  The other parts of him didn’t like dwelling on the things which might make him different from Sorey.  He tried not to think about the ways in which the rhythms of their lives were so inherently different, or that without the other boy to ground him, these past seventeen years might have felt like nothing more than the blink of an eye in his relative infancy.  As it was, he didn’t get time to contemplate such unpleasant words as ‘transient’ and ‘fragile’ for more than a moment, because then the object of his thoughts was bounding up the hill to with light in his eyes, leaves in his hair and words on his lips.

“Do those need to soak for a bit?”

“Umm, they can,” Mikleo replied shaking his head in an attempt to both rid it of his concerns, and his tiredness.

“Good!  I need some help bringing our mattresses outside to air.”

“Couldn’t you just ask Natalie or one of the other wind seraphim to air them for you?”

“That would be cheating.”

Cheating sounded just fine to him.  But Sorey, ever earnest, would never go for it.  He sighed, and flicked the water from his hands and sleeves, which dried instantly.  “Fine, I’ll help.”

“Alright!”

The two of them trailed into Sorey’s house, where Mikleo discovered, much to his relief, that for all of today’s energy and work ethic, Sorey could still fall prey to distraction.  That distraction being his seemingly insatiable need to tickle Mikleo.  As soon as they neared the bed, he wasted no time in tackling him to the mattress and attacking him with wiggling fingers.

“Sorey, what the hell?” Mikleo shrieked, as he did his best to wriggle and stretch out of reach.  “Stop that!”

He was doing a fairly good job of holding his own, too, until Sorey managed to sit on his stomach, and pin one hand over his head.  He still tried to fight back with his other hand, but it was a lost cause.

“No way, not when I’m winning.”  True to his word, Sorey didn’t let up until Mikleo was too winded from laughing to do much more than lie shaking on the bed.

“Jerk,” he finally managed to say between panting breaths.

Sorey, for his part, just looked down at him, all smiles and innocence and affection, with only a touch of pride.  Mikleo returned his look with a scowl.

“Are you awake now?  It looked like you were about to fall asleep into the wash water.”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Good.”  Sorey gave the hand he was holding a little squeeze, and then used it to haul both of them back up.  “Now, come on.  We still have work to do and books to win!”  That determined shine in his eyes was back, and Mikleo knew that he was gone again.  He would be likely focusing on nothing else but the tasks required to earn those books for the rest of the day.

Between the two of them, it wasn’t too hard to haul the mattress outside and prop it up against the wall to absorb the smell of the golden sunlight and the sweet breeze that blew up and over the top of the mountain, and then retrieve the other from Mikleo’s house.  At some point while they worked, Gramps had made his way out of his own house and settled on the front step.  They could see him smoking his pipe in the shadows cast by his front door.  He feigned an outward appearance of indifference to his charges as they went about their tasks, but they could feel his sharp eyes on them anyway.  If Mikleo had any hope before of sneaking off to doze in the new spring grass, there was no longer any chance of that.

Even without Gramps’ watchful gaze, he wouldn’t have been able to evade Sorey.  It seemed every time he finished a task – given his nature, mostly washing windows, floors, and even more clothing – Sorey was there asking him for help.  Mikleo, do you want to get the firewood for your house?  Mikleo, can you help me bring in the prickly boars I caught?  Mikleo, I need a hand carrying the mattresses back in.

They did take a break for lunch, which Mikleo avoided having to cook by bringing out some goat cheese and hard cured sausage.  That was a merciful few minutes to sit still at least, although the same could not be said for his fidgety companion.  Despite Sorey and his relentless energy, it still took until nearly sundown for them to finish their litany of chores.

As soon as Sorey finished storing away the meat he had cured and smoked, he was dashing back up the hill and grabbing Mikleo’s hand as he went.  The seraph resigned himself to being pulled along behind like a living kite.  The both of them arrived on Gramps’ doorstep, where he was still sitting with his pipe, slightly out of breath.

“We did… all of it,” Sorey panted, for once showing signs of exhaustion as he leaned forward and braced himself on his knees.  “Please, can we have the books now?”

“Yes, please,” Mikleo echoed.  “He’s driving me crazy.”

Gramps’ wizened face stayed stoic as usual, but there was a spark of mirth in the raise of his bushy eyebrows.  “You’ve done well,” he told his wards, and shifted so that they could see the two books on the step behind him.  One was bound in plain leather, adorned only by the raised lines of the binding strings along the spine.  The other had an additional strip of gilding at the top, just above an embossed title claiming that it was on the exploration of the Gaferis Ruins.  Mikleo often wondered where Gramps acquired such books for them, given the fact that the Seraphim in Elysia had no contact with the outside world.  Usually he just accepted that this would be a puzzle he wouldn’t solve.

Sorey did not seem to care for such observations or musings.  As soon as Gramps spoke, he lunged forward to grab the books, and then bowed slightly in apology for his rudeness when one grey eyebrow changed its slant.  “Thank you, Gramps!” he said when he straightened.  He had dignity enough to wait at least until they had turned away before he clutched the books to his chest and rocked back and forth, a dreamy look in his eyes.

“Careful, or the Celestial Record will get jealous that you’re cheating on it,” Mikleo remarked as they walked back down toward their homes.

Sorey just stuck his tongue out.  “It’s a book on ruins, Mikleo!  That means there are other people who have gone exploring and trying to piece together the past like we do.  Maybe there are others who believe in Seraphim, and who share our dream.”

“That would be wonderful,” he replied, the thought making him feel a little dreamy himself.  Maybe there would be a world where he and Sorey could live and explore as a seraph and a human together. 

“Alright, I want to read these right away.”

“No way.  Dinner first.”

Sorey pouted, and Mikleo poked his cheek.  That cheek puffed out in defiance, but it was not long lived.  He deflated, literally, a moment later, and then followed Mikleo into his house.

Dinner was not a restful affair, despite the fact that Sorey had to be feeling at least some modicum of tiredness.  Mikleo had figured that this would be the case, and had made a simple meal; there was no point in wasting effort on fancy cooking when the food would be practically inhaled.  His predictions had been correct.  Sorey sat next to him by the hearth in his home, the two new, precious books just to the other side, and piled food into his mouth with all of the grace of a small child who had never been taught table manners.

“Ugh, slow down and don’t chew with your mouth open,” Mikleo chastised, as he leaned away.  Messes had never been his favorite thing.

Sorey, at least, had the courtesy to look apologetic, and take a moment to breathe between bites.  Although, that didn’t stop him from saying, with food still in his mouth, “Sorry, Mikleo.”

For his part, Mikleo just sighed, and stood up with the intention of starting to wash the dishes.  When Sorey got worked up like this, it wasn’t always easy to get him to calm down.

Once finished, Sorey leaned back on his arms and tilted his head over his shoulder to look at Mikleo.  Even in this posture, he seemed to strain with the need to fidget or more.  “Do you think you could read aloud to me?”

“Of course I can.”  He knew why.  They always read new books together for the first time, and it was apparent to the both of them that Sorey would just squirm and get on Mikleo’s nerves.  He banished the wash water, and any drops remaining on the dishes and his hands before putting them away.  Then he crossed to where Sorey had already picked up the book with the more intricate cover and was running his hand over the embossing.  “Just give me a moment to change.” He took the book from Sorey’s grasp, and then said with a smirk, “Do you think you can wait that long?”

Sorey replied with a long-suffering sigh, and a lackluster swat in Mikleo’s direction in retaliation for the smugness in his voice.  “Probably.”  Then he flopped back onto the wooden floor, where his fingers immediately began tapping with few signs of rhythm.

The tapping sounds followed Mikleo into his bedroom, where he shed his tunic and fitted pants for his looser night-wear.  He could feel Sorey’s eyes on his back, as he did, and it made him flush despite the fact that they had seen each other change many times before.  It was satisfying, though, to hear those taps stutter for just a moment before resuming.  When he turned back around, Sorey’s eyes were pointed toward the ceiling, and nothing in his demeanor suggested he had been staring.  Just for that, Mikleo made a small huffing noise to attract his companion’s attention, before treating him to teasing look.  He received an annoyed glance in return, which melted back into Sorey’s normal enthusiastic expression, mixed with a plea to start reading.

Feeling as if Sorey would burst if he didn’t comply with that silent request, Mikleo decided to indulge in just a bit more teasing.  Because, really, his bed was so comfortable.  It would be a shame to not take the time to adjust the pillow just right behind his back, and then express his enjoyment with contented hums and sighs.  It took maybe half a minute of this for Sorey to bolt up to sitting and flash him the same annoyed glance, kicked up a few notches.  Of course, at this point, Mikleo had the book open on his lap and was clearing his throat to read, the picture of compliance.

The finger tapping resumed no more than a few pages into the description of the entry hall of the Gaferis Ruins.  Mikleo lasted only a few more pages after that, before he sighed in exasperation, and said, “In case you weren’t aware, that is somewhat distracting.”

Sorey sighed too, and ruffled his hair aggressively.  He looked annoyed with himself at this point, and Mikleo had to wonder if the restlessness was starting to wear on him too.  “Sorry, I’ll try something else.”

That something else was pacing.  It was not restful, but once Sorey removed his boots, the shushing of his carefully quiet steps was easy enough to tune out.  They made it through several chapters of the book like this, with Mikleo’s voice filling the house with images of ancient burial rites and tombs.  For all Sorey’s motion, he was still an attentive listener.  He made wordless expressions of response at appropriate moments, and held a hand to his chin as he walked and contemplated the implications of the text.  For now, they did not debate – that would come on a second or third reading, after they had time to absorb the information and form hypotheses based on other books they owned.  It was probably for the best.  Mikleo didn’t think he would be able to keep up in a debate with how relaxed and drowsy he felt at the moment.

It was around the point that the untended fire had burnt down to glowing embers, turning Sorey to a ruddy silhouette against the faint light, that Mikleo’s ability to concentrate on the words of the book failed him.  He grabbed a strip of leather from the small table beside his bed and used it to mark their place before setting the book aside.  Sorey must have been lost in thought of some theory or another, because it took him a moment to realize that Mikleo had stopped reading and turn to look at him.

“Bed time,” Mikleo informed with a lazy smile.  “Come here.”

“I should go home, if you’re planning to sleep.  I’m not particularly tired,” Sorey protested, but it was a weak protest.  He was already moving down the steps into the lowered bedroom.

“If you go home, you’re just going to stay up all night researching whatever you were thinking about just now.  Consider this supervision.”

As soon as Sorey sat down on the edge of the bed, Mikleo scooted forward so that he could wrap his arms around him from behind.  He pressed his nose into the fine hairs at the base of Sorey’s neck, smelling smoke from his earlier work, and just a trace of sweat.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to help you relax.  Now, shush.”  As he spoke his hands worked at the buttons and loops on the front of Sorey’s shirt, fingers deft for all that he couldn’t see what he was doing.  He pulled it away from his shoulders, and thankfully the majority of the smoky scent went with the shirt.  Only the faintest trace clung to his skin.

Once the shirt was draped over the end of the bed, Mikleo moved even closer, so that his chest was pressed to Sorey’s back, and his chin resting on his shoulder.  He covered the backs of Sorey’s hands with his own, and then laced their fingers together.  “Breathe with me, okay?”  He took long, slow breaths, the kind that made the weight of long days like the one they’d had melt away, and made sure that Sorey could feel the rise and fall of them in his chest.

It took a moment, but their breathing fell into sync.  One it did, he reached up to unfasten Sorey’s feather earrings, a bedtime ritual which they had practiced for years.  Sorey turned his head to the side so he could rub his cheek against Mikleo’s hair, and let out a massive yawn.  “I think I’m good,” he said, and disentangled one hand so that he could rub at the back of his head, sheepish.

Mikleo had to smile he moved away so that he could put out the lantern, and set aside both the earrings and his circlet.  He moved to push back the covers and climb in, but as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could see that there were still some traces of tension in Sorey’s movements as he followed.  He sighed.  It couldn’t have been that easy, of course.  He propped himself back against the wall, and beckoned for Sorey to lay against him, with his head on his chest.  “Once more then,” he said.  “Close your eyes.”

Sorey complied and let his lids slide closed.  Once they were, Mikleo started with Sorey’s neck, rubbing slow circles into it with his thumbs, and earning a contented murmur in return.  Next, he smoothed his hands across Sorey’s shoulders and down his arms, first with nothing more than the pressure of his fingers, and then with the lightest touch of healing.  Not too much, just enough to take the edge off the soreness and stiffness that would surely work its way in by the next day.  They had learned the hard way that it was best not to heal the muscles fully, when Sorey had spent weeks wondering why he didn’t seem to get any stronger despite all of the manual work and time he spent practicing with his ceremonial sword.  Looking back, the situation had been funny, but it was best not repeated.

Under his ministrations, Mikleo could feel the last of the dredges of tension and restless energy melting away.  He let his hands come to rest on Sorey’s stomach, one folded over the other, and felt the slow way it rose and fell as together their breathing lapsed into a more sedate pattern again.  “Better?” he asked.

Instead of immediately replying, Sorey shifted languidly to the side, and tilted his head so he could place a kiss on Mikleo’s jaw.  Due to the angle and the difficulty of seeing in the dark, the best he could manage was to reach a spot just off of Mikleo’s chin, but it was an endearing action none the less.  “Much better, thank you.  You always know just what I need.”

“Well of course I do.”  Mikeo tried to keep the smugness out of his voice, but he didn’t try that hard.  As he spoke, he let one hand drift up to wind its way into Sorey’s hair and cradle the back of his head.  His fingers pressed small, gentle lines against Sorey’s scalp, a tried and true method to encourage him to sleep.  He received a drowsy noise in response.

“I love you, my Luzrov Rulay.”

Mikleo’s face still tinged with the lightest pink at hearing his true name said in such a slow, intimate voice, but he was too relaxed at the moment to kick up a fuss like he sometimes did.  Instead, he leaned down to drop his own kiss onto the crown of Sorey’s head, and said, “I love you, too,” before he began to ease them down to the bed.  By the time he shifted them so their heads rested together on the single pillow and the blankets wrapped around them securely, Sorey’s eyes had fallen mostly closed again.  Only a sliver of green remained.  His mouth parted in another wide yawn, and Mikleo had to suppress a laugh.

“You’re not tired at all, right?”

“Well, maybe just a little.”  His voice was quiet and fading fast.

Mikleo debated, and decided that pointing out that he was always correct wasn’t worth it when Sorey likely wouldn’t remember much of this exchange come morning.  Instead, he opted to lean forward and press their foreheads together for a moment before sneaking a quick kiss.  Then he turned over and shifted until his back was pressed against Sorey’s warm chest.  An arm came up to settle around his waist, indicating that the boy behind him had at least a bit of awareness left.

“Tomorrow, we’re sleeping in.”

“Okay,” Sorey breathed out, and with it the last of his consciousness.

Mikleo smiled at the sensation of the even breaths against his neck, and the tiny snore that accompanied.  Mission accomplished, he let his own eyes close, and drifted away.


End file.
